Month: October 2019

In the first moments awake, before opening my eyes, I felt a hint of annoyance with myself for having left the music up so loud before I had passed out the night before. ‘My housemates hate me…’ crossed my sleepy conscious as I curled onto my left side. A familiar scent stopped my train of thought, as his arms wrapped around me and pulled me in closer.

He sprinkled my shoulder with kisses and still, without opening my eyes, I shrunk in his affection, suddenly feeling every ounce of him on every inch of me. Not at my house by any means, but definitely at home.

“You know how many times I’ve closed my eyes and imagined bending you over the hood of your car that night,” he told me at the bar, just hours before this moment. “Yeah, that was fucking hot.” I said into his ear after I leaned in closer to kiss his shoulder.

“Really fuckin’ hot.” He announced as he lifted his whiskey glass to his lips.

“So, how’s your apartment?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t so excruciatingly obvious I was blushing. “It’s not the farm, but it’s fine,” he shrugged and set his empty glass on the bar, the ice crashing to the bottom. “Wanna see it?”

A few hours later, somewhere between my 4th and 5th orgasm, I had my face buried into his neck, and my fingernails buried into his back. “Fuck,” he moaned, “I’m so glad you talked to me in that beer line.”

I’m always just spilling with laughter any time we’re together.

“You ready for coffee?” He asked me this morning, in the pre-dawn chill creeping in under the blinds pulled shut. “Yes please.” I sat up in his bed, counting the outlines of pillows that had been thrown to the floor during the night’s mischief. “Oh, that’s gonna be beautiful,” he said as he took a step back to push the blinds to the side of his sliding glass door. “Get ready for an incredible sunrise.”

A few minutes later he returned with a mug in each hand. “This one’s your favorite, right?” he set down a white mug with brightly colored flowers next to my phone on the nightstand. “Thanks honey.” I smiled as I watched the silhouette of his bare ass make it’s way back to the other side of the bed. He climbed back in and pushed our surviving pillows up against his headboard so we could watch the clouds change colors. “You’re welcome baby,” he smiled as he leaned over to kiss my forehead.

He moved to a different town, out of the countryside. In a third floor apartment. He made a joke at the bar the day he signed his new lease. “Here’s my new address. So when your lease is up in December- get an apartment here too.” He said with his usual perfect smile.

“Neighbors forever.” I laughed, before exchanging a mischievous glance with him.

The 13th of each month has been especially significant to me this year.

April 13th was the day I realized my relationship was suffering, possibly irreparably. May 13th I met one of my dearest friends, who would later pull me through one of the most uncertain times of my life. July 13th I took the leap I knew I needed to, and moved across counties, to a town I knew nothing about. 30 days, 60 days, 90 days- it’s been since making a life changing decision.

I’ve grown as person, and in a way regressed, to who I was before I allowed an addict to cloud my vision of standards. I’ve found solace in being alone, and happiness in another’s arms. I laugh at most things, and act in ways that represent myself fully. I’m working towards things I want, and accomplishing the things I said I would.

So much can change in just a blink of an eye. So much can change when you put your mind to it. So much can change when you act on your dreams, and keep your mind focused on what you want.

I’m crushin’ it.

[I’ve had this saved on my laptop for years; titled READ THIS EVERYDAY]

“It’s amazing how day by day the steps don’t seem so advancing or extraordinary. You can’t ever seem to tell how far you’ve come, until you turn around to watch the sun set on the perfect path that is your own.

“I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.” -William Ernest Henley

I can’t feel sad in the darkness, or pity in the loneliness. I can’t get angry at the people that have hurt me. My soul can’t contribute to the negativity in the world; and I am blessed.

I am blessed to be an intelligent witty human. I am blessed to be born a hard worker, and a loyal friend. I am blessed to hurt without being crushed. I am thankful that I am loving, and grateful that I am able.
I am blessed to be inspired by my dreams, and a product of my relentless determination. I am blessed to understand the universe is none but my own, and I am grateful for every reminder that I am alive.

I am forever grateful for the moments in life, that I can smirk with great satisfaction at the life in front of me. The moments that I think, ‘I couldn’t be happier.’
‘This couldn’t be more perfect.’

It’s those moments all on their own that make this life worth living. Make this life worth working for.

Still open during construction.

I parked next to his Chevy, but walked in pretending I hadn’t recognized it. I saw him alone at a table in the back, but continued to scan the heads at the bar- then snagged the first empty bar stool.

“HEY,” I heard the same familiar voice I’d been falling in love with for months.

I threw my arms out as I spun around on my seat, feet up, smirking with sarcasm, “I can’t even get a drink first??” I shouted back. Drawing attention from the rest of the bar. This whole entire bar knows us each by name.

“Nope.” He threw his arms out in reciprocation, looking to envelope me in affection. I hopped off the stool, and walked across the weathered hardwood floor, into his waiting arms; melting into the same puddle of love I’d been drowning in all summer.

“Please,” he released me enough to take a look at me, “put it on my tab.” I laughed as I shrugged his arms off me, “You better believe I was already going to.” I heard him laugh as I skipped back to April behind the bar.

I ordered a whiskey coke and made my way back to his table, “can I sit with you?” He laughed with a smile- already anticipating my coy behavior.

I made a joke on twitter a couple weeks ago how we always pussyfoot around each other at first, acting as if any boundary ever existed- and then it always just turns into a huge mess of our DNA. “Please do!” he smiled a perfect smile at me, as he pulled a stool over directly in front of him.

We talked about work- and when I’d finally start my new job. We talked about the dates I’d been on- and why I was pretty much just done dating. We talked about how the sale of his farm had just fallen through- and how he’d just rented an apartment in Folsom earlier that day. We laughed at how my new office is just a block away from his office of 20+ years. “Oh my god,” he covered his forehead with his right hand. “Remember when we used to joke about hooking up on our lunch breaks?”
“Do I?” I looked up while sucking the straw of my whiskey.

At one point in every conversation between us, it touches on something deeper than jokes and catching up and making each other smile while howling with laughter in our own world. “The last time we spoke,” he began- and I rolled my eyes, already knowing it had to be acknowledged. “don’t roll those beautiful eyes at me,” he grabbed my thigh, “you were not happy with me.”

He says he’s torn between telling me more than I need or want to know, and just telling me only the things that make him appear less criminal. From the moment we met, drunk in line for beer at a concert, one hundred percent honesty has always been the basis of our friendship. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health.

“You haven’t looked at a single cowboy that’s walked in this door.” He raised his drink, and his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, well. The only man I want is already in front of me.” I served with conviction and a sarcastic smile.
“I like that,” he set his glass down, and placed both his hands around my face, “and I love you.”

I’m just a heaping pot of honey whenever he’s around.

“Can you believe,” he threw his whiskey glass back, as he settled against the back wall of our bar. The same bar we had our first date. The same bar we both now call our neighborhood bar. “This all started at the show of a Led Zeppelin cover band?”